|Mrs. Owl on Thursday.|
I hate this holding pattern--shouldn't we be living every moment, not sitting around hoping for other, different moments? But I have been sick for two weeks now, with a bad cold that turned into sinus infections and then an ear infection, and let me tell you, there are few things more painful than an ear infection. It is hard to embrace every moment when most moments it feels like someone is jabbing you in the eardrum with an ice pick.
And two weeks is a long time to be moping around, not feeling good. I sleep at odd hours, feel vaguely sick all the time, probably because of all the cold medicine/ibuprofin/antibiotics/phlegm. I am feverish, off and on. I am annoyed with myself for being so sick for so damn long.
Still, every day, twice a day, I walk the dogs. Being outside makes me feel better, even as it wears me out. And along our usual route I always look up to make sure Mrs. Owl is still in her spot, and she always is. I'm getting concerned, though--I see no movement. Oh, she moves--she turns her head, she hunkers down deeper in the tree cavity, or she sits up higher and looks out. She opens or closes her eyes. She is not a cardboard cutout. She is real.
But I see no other activity--I don't see her looking down at owlets, or owlets clamoring to peer out the hole, or Mrs. Owl tearing off bits of rabbit to feed the babies. She just sits there in the same spot every day, ear tufts glowing in the morning sun, waiting.
We had a big snowstorm yesterday; I was home from work because of this stupid illness and I lay in bed and watched the snow fall fast past the window; we got about a foot, when all was said and done, but by mid-afternoon when I drove to Walgreens to pick up my antibiotics it had already started to melt. This week will finally be spring, apparently; today it was 45, tomorrow it will be nearly 60, by Wednesday maybe 70. My ear infection will clear up, eventually. The owlets will emerge, or won't.
I should not be waiting for good things to happen. I should be living in the now, embracing--what? My cold? My cough? My fitful sleepless nights?